


death and taxes

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anxiety, California, Depression, Finn-centric (Star Wars), Gender Identity, Introspection, M/M, POV Finn (Star Wars), Recreational Drug Use, Starbucks, Trans Finn (Star Wars), nonbinary finn, romance in the late stage of capitalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: Finn squints at the poorly lit selfie, taken from the worst angle below this guy's chin.KYLO, 294 miles away6'3" alpha male. I like Post Malone and Halsey. My favorite movie is Pulp Fiction."To live is to suffer." ~NeitzscheFinn, a manager at Starbucks, and Kylo, an apprentice at a local tattoo parlor, meet on Tinder.
Relationships: Finn/Kylo Ren
Comments: 16
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how long this is going to be, just that I got hit with feverish inspiration and I plan on riding it until it passes.
> 
> shoutout to the finnlo server

The shadows of power lines between the utility poles and the branches of the blue oaks come together on the wet asphalt like a steeple. Finn thinks of the churches in First Order - the musty pews he hasn't seen since he was eighteen and the foster home he'd been raised in cut him loose, the sweaty Sunday clothes and the booth at the Chinese buffet they went to every week as well - and then he tries not to think at all.

On a warm day in August under dense cloud cover, he said good riddance to First Order, Alabama and took a cab to the airport. He'd ordered a ticket to California a year in advance, and he'd secured an apartment with the help of his case worker, a middle-aged white man with tiny eyes and Nixon jowls who tried to convince him to attend somewhere in the city, perhaps Birmingham and definitely not as far as Atlanta.

Instead, he's is in this small town, twenty minutes from the coast when just three years ago he saw the ocean for the first time. 

In the hillside, the McMansions shimmer - bright windows and swimming pools, giant roofs and sports cars - like fires during a drought. None of the people who live in those houses work in the town, where the corporate beige of coffeehouses and breweries is slowly overshadowing the pink stucco of Mexican restaurants and bars. Finn should know; he's a shift manager at Starbucks. This is where Poe grew up, where he took boyfriends home for Christmas, where he's taken Finn.

He and Poe are taking a break right now - as in, sleeping in the same bed while waiting for the lease to end so they can go their separate ways. There will come a day when Poe wakes up to more space in his bathroom cabinet than yesterday, and that will be it, because Finn never quite finished unpacking. He keeps his clothes in one suitcase, his toiletries on one shelf, and his important documents in one folder.

On Saturday they eat dinner together, and every other Thursday night they go to trivia. They met when they were seventeen, and they really liked each other, at one point. But something is missing.

It is four in the morning, barely Tuesday, in the middle of December. Finn usually leaves earlier for work because of the potholes and speed bumps from the 70's that make the parking lot in his apartment complex a time-consuming labyrinth. Poe's fat orange cat puked in the kitchen and Finn wasn't about to wake him up after a graveyard shift, so he brushed his teeth in record time and got out the clorox. The front of Finn's little Mitsubishi scrapes the ground as he drives a whopping three miles per hour.

Don't think about it, don't think about it. Get to work. Work then class, sleep then work, then class then sleep, then work then class... a day off where he catches up on laundry and the dishes, then back to work. Finn is very happy, and he loves his job, and there isn't something inside him that feels like a rotten animal exposing its belly to corporate, begging for just one scratch.

It's much better here than Alabama. And it's going to be a good day. Just don't think about it.

As the end of the decade approaches, it feels almost like the end of the world, too. A change in the wind, maybe, on such a slow and gentle descent. Co-workers whose children he's met who stop showing up, friends that once felt like family who don't come around anymore - everyone quietly moved away. The library closes earlier because it can't afford to stay open all day. Hours get cut and businesses close, except for the one Catholic thrift store that smells like vinegar and the old ladies that volunteer there never age. Sears turns into Kmart turns into Target turns into an empty building where the teenagers get high because there's nothing else to do and the homeless people sleep because there's nowhere else to.

At least he's not in First Order.

His shift goes by relatively smoothly. One of the new girls tells him that he's the only reason she's still there, and later on his store manager pulls him aside to scold him for not greeting every single customer that comes in the door, setting a bad example to the rest of the staff. The new girl, on her lunch break, offers him a hit of her juul. He politely declines, because he has his own suorin drop.

In a mango-scented cloud Finn sits in his car, listening to a playlist he made when he moved to California. It's buried in his Spotify, hiding an embarrassing amount of Drake and early 2000's pop punk. There's a song he was obsessed with, by one of those Nirvana-inspired bands from MTV that played at Warped Tour.

 _There's a place off Ocean Avenue, where I used to sit and talk with you._ He has thirty minutes before class, and he can fade away to this, filled with soft nostalgia. Wearing Poe's jacket and remembering when he was young and just as unhappy, but with less responsibilities.

Warm and light-headed, he swipes through Tinder on the Starbucks WiFi with no real interest, passing men, women, and the occasional bio with they/them next to an emoji. He doesn't really think about his gender - it's more of a thing other people see in him than a thing he sees in himself, but he doesn't feel strongly enough about it to make it an identity.

 _There's a place on the corner of Cherry Street, we could walk on the beach in our bare feet._ It strikes him, suddenly, that he could make it a Thing if he tried, with a big capital T. Gender, that is. Near campus, there's a Planned Parenthood where he gets tested that recently started offering hormone therapy. He has a brief vision of himself in five years going to CVS once a month - he changed his legal name once, so why not again? Third name's a charm.

No one in California knows he did, but if anyone here found out, he'd say it was to distance himself from his birth parents. Or something. He can't quite put it into words in this state of mind, but he has a defense ready, and he doesn't think too hard about why he thinks he needs a defense.

Maybe it could be a lowercase thing. Anyway, he likes being called Finn. He chose it around the time he met Poe, who's a good friend despite everything.

The urge to transition lasts for a few moments before falling back into the ebb and flow. His thumb moves on its own, faces blurring together. One of them finally makes him pause, and he squints at the poorly lit selfie, taken from the worst angle below this guy's chin.

**KYLO, 29  
4 miles away  
6'3" alpha male. I like Post Malone and Halsey. My favorite movie is Pulp Fiction.  
"To live is to suffer." ~Neitzsche**

He has to laugh. There are no pictures in which Kylo has a shirt on, and the ones that aren't selfies feature him holding a beer on the beach, holding a beer in a spa, and holding two beers in a backyard. He's covered in tattoos; he has flowers on his back and constellations on his chest. A snake with a crown and a sword through his heart. They're done well, but they're not very original.

Unlike his face, oblong and strange. His features are prominent, almost exaggerated: awkward nose, odd mouth, crazy eyes. He's big enough that he probably wasn't bullied as a kid, and Finn can imagine him, at half his height with his ears sticking out like a cartoon, pushing other kids off the slide or stealing their Pokemon cards.

Then again, he might've been goth, although everyone on Tinder is alternative these days. The Nietzsche quote speaks for the teenage atheist in him, but the misspelling points to the modern male film critic he is, who loves Tarantino and relates to _American Psycho._

Oh God, there's a _World of Warcraft_ poster in the background. What if he took part in Gamergate? Almost every word in his profile is a red flag and, more than that, a major turn-off.

But... well. He's 6'3". And shredded.

The rainbow chrome of Finn's suorin gleams in the sun as he takes a puff - sometimes he has to indulge in being visibly gay, Southern politeness be damned. Gay or whatever he is. He still doesn't know. Someone who is something.

Finn matches with Kylo and sends the message, _it's Nietzsche, not Nietzsche. are you really 6'3"?_ He'll let Kylo buy him dinner, and if he doesn't talk about Post Malone, maybe he'll even go back to Kylo's place.

Class in fifteen minutes. He's freckled in mocha and frap roast. His non-slip shoes make squelching noises, and his bleach-spotted black clothes stick to him with their stench. At least to him they do. Anyone else would say he smells like mangoes and fresh coffee.

Finn takes the 101 to the city where plastic straws and drive-throughs are banned, where the campus sprawls across six miles of solar panels and adobe buildings. He can drive and vape at the same time, but his eyes are drawn to a hawk above one of those matrix signs, with orange text warning against DUIs and accidents. He watches its lone silhouette turn in circles against the slate-grey sky.

 _Fate fell short this time, your smile fades in the summer..._ It makes him feel nineteen years old again, sweating in Jessika's garage, watching Poe's ska band practice. There's joy in those memories, but he can't stand that nasal SoCal accent for long. _Place your hand in mine, I'll leave when I wanna._

He glances at the Honda Civic next to him, at the flash of a white wrist as she flicks her cigarette out the window. The pre-dawn has thawed and the highway is filling with people who work at normal hours. Ahead of him, rain murmurs in the purple mountains, and his short locs already feel frizzy from the moisture in the air. 

He's thinking too hard yet unable to focus at the same time. His hands are shaking; he should cut back to four shots of espresso instead of six. His anxiety has been building since he woke up, and he takes the edge off with another puff of his suorin. Shit, when did he become such a Californian?

He grew up in the rural South, where there were rivers around every corner and the roads were named Winchester or Remington. Everywhere it was green, from the Spanish moss to the cypress trees. He hated it then, but now he misses those cool summer nights. And the gas prices.

_Once you know you can never go back, I've got to take it on the otherside._

He wants to be at peace, the way he feels when he watches the moon shining on the ocean at night. He wants to be kissed on the beach, held in strong arms. He wants to wear a dress. When the rain comes, he wants to be ready.


	2. first date

Kylo takes him to a beach somewhere along Route 1, north of Cambria and close to Hearst Castle. During this time of year, elephant seals bellow for miles along the shore, almost as loud as the pensioners in souvenir t-shirts and sunglasses. Their Winnebagos fill the parking lot; Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith blare from old stereos. In the summer, they litter the sand in soda cans, cigarette butts, and dog shit.

Finn's first thought on seeing Kylo is: _junkie._ He looks sick. He's got muscles, though, in his arms and calves. He doesn't have the shakes, either. It's something about his face, the waxy pallor and the sunken eyes. From a distance, he would be attractive. In broad daylight, however... Finn might have found him charming if they met for dinner in the late afternoon, with his face half in shadow, so his first impression of Kylo would've been high cheekbones and a nice mouth.

Instead the sputter of his dad's spray-painted minivan brought flop-haired Kylo into Finn's life. He is, no exaggeration, 6'3". But he's got this ugly goatee that wasn't in his pictures, and his skin is waiting room white. The ink stands out against his skin like stains under hospital fluorescence, and the sheen over his eyes reminds Finn of dirty bong water.

Kylo does have weed. Legal dispensary weed - he went into a store with an actual menu, found the exact strain he wanted, and paid taxes on it. Both their Tinder profiles said they smoke, but Kylo still asks if he's okay with it. He lights up his blue glass handpipe and passes it to Finn before he has to ask to take a hit.

Kylo thumps his chest, smoke escaping out the corners of his mouth. "So you're in college, huh? What's your major, like, what career are you going into?"

"I don't really know," Finn says, surprising himself with his honesty. He never admits this on first dates. "I'm getting all the general stuff out of the way right now."

"Oh, yeah?"

It comes out of him all at once, "I don't know what I want to do, just that I want to not work in customer service forever, because it's just crushing. It's the worst. Sometimes I look at people and it feels like they aren't even people, just animals. Just horrible poop-throwing monkeys. I used to think I wanted to help people but now I kind of hate people. Maybe I'll go to trade school."

"That's a good option."

"I honestly never thought I'd make it this far. No one expected me to do anything. So I'm trying to survive when it's so hard to plan a future, like what future is there for me? Fuck."

"Well," Kylo clears his throat. "I think you're, uh, really smart and cool and you seem to have your shit together, like, even if you don't feel like it. You're a lot more responsible than most of the people I know. And I think that if I can tell that about you - and I'm a huge dumbass - someone who wants to hire a smart guy would see that in you, too." Kylo takes a deep breath. "Sorry, I don't wanna scare you off. I really like you."

"No, it's fine. You're a good listener."

"I feel like I could listen to you talk for hours and be happy."

"Um," Finn says, "Thanks."

Blue feathers of smoke curl in the sunlight. The music pulses inside Finn, blood pumping to the strum of guitars. He's never been into classic rock, but when "Quicksilver Girl" comes on, he can see every branch of the tree, too. He feels so content in his body that when Kylo puts a hand on his thigh, he parts his legs.

When Kylo goes down on him, he notices a flash of ink on the inside of Kylo's bottom lip, a four letter word starting with a bold S. Snake, or maybe saint? He forgets about it while Kylo keeps asking, "Is this okay? Did that feel good? Do you want me to stop?" 

They blow each other for thirty minutes before Kylo begs to fuck him and Finn tsks, "Not in your backseat - my knees would kill me. And I had lasagna last night, no way." He leans out of his seat towards Kylo and - oh shit, it's huge. He can't even fit it halfway in his mouth.

It's quick and sloppy but pleasurable. Kylo fumbles with the condoms and it spills a little on his shirt. Finn laughs and Kylo tries to wipe it off, only for it to smear. He keeps condoms in his wallet like a teenager, a fact that should not endear him to Finn but does. At least he's safe and doesn't make a fuss about using protection.

They walk under the eucalyptus trees to the pier. When someone is young and broke on the coast, they either go on a hike or go to the beach for a date. Finn would have preferred a good meal, paid by Kylo, but he has a weakness for the ocean. If he doesn't like Kylo after a blowjob, the drive back will suck even more than him, but for now Finn has this.

The sun touches the back of his neck like the breath of a warm body in bed next to him. The birds cackle over bread crumbs and dive over the water - everywhere water, finally water, the only water in California. The pacific beckons to him like the answer to all of his problems. He doesn't think; he just stares. And Kylo stares at him.

They sit on a bench at the end of the pier for a while. There's a few surfers out today but mostly children from the Winnebagos. Finn tilts his head back and closes his eyes. This is nice. He floats, dazed and weightless. He hasn't smoked good weed in a while.

He opens his eyes slightly, letting the light in like a crack under a door. Kylo is at the edge of his vision, silhouetted against the sea. Finn thinks about Poe dropping one of his china plates, something from his long dead parents. He helped Poe pick the shards off the floor while he quietly cried. That's what Finn thinks of Kylo: those shards of a china plate on the floor of their first apartment. And what does Kylo see in him? 

Pangs of anxiety gnaw at his stomach, at the space between his ribs. He tells himself, _put it in a box, lock it, put that box on a high shelf in a closet, lock that too._ But lately he keeps coming back to the kudzu-covered fence surrounding the church, the shade of the fig tree out front and the grass beneath. The smell of furniture polish and the liver-spotted hands of the pastor.

"I want to show you something."

Finn blinks slowly. "Huh?"

"Did you grow up here?"

"No, why?"

"Neither did I. Come with me."

Kylo stands and Finn follows; birds take off from the pier in a perfect arrow. A cold wind from the southeast carries more clouds into the overcast sky. Further down the beach, two giant male elephant seals throw themselves at each other, moaning as their bodies ripple and the water foams around them. Kylo guides Finn past the treeline and onto a dirt trail.

"I found this part of the beach the week I moved here," Kylo says, holding a branch out of Finn's way. "It's where I go when I want to be alone. I, uh, meditate a lot. I've never really taken anyone else here. It's a special place."

He doesn't absorb most of what Kylo said. "Where are you from?"

"Kansas. I don't really like talking about it." 

He proceeds to talk about it at length. Kansas comes as a surprise, but as he goes on, it starts to make sense. He can see Kylo as a farm boy, bleaching his hair and dropping acid in the fields. Born under big blue skies with thunder clouds on the horizon, raised on a ranch with chickens and a trampoline in the yard. Parents got a divorce. Then the cult. He ran away to the west and now he lives in a townhouse with six roommates. 

"Cult." Finn feels the word in his mouth, from his throat to the tip of his tongue. "Did you say there was a cult?"

"Uh, yeah," Kylo coughs, or laughs. Finn can't tell. "That happened. It was a different time. Anyway, hey, we're almost there."

They have to climb down to reach Kylo's special place. It's not a sheer drop, but they carefully scale it like a mountain, foothold by foothold. There's nobody on this side of the beach, and their feet sink into the sand once they're down. It's just them, the rising water and the looming trees.

Kylo keeps talking about his childhood, and Finn feels his brain sizzling like a fried egg. So he drops the big one that makes everyone change the subject, "I wouldn't know. I was an orphan."

Kylo pauses, and then he says, "I wish I was an orphan."

Finn tenses and feels his thoughts freeze, everything grinding to a halt. It's not like he hasn't heard that before; it's the fact that he was getting comfortable, allowing himself to enjoy this. A lightning bolt of urgency, white-hot and frantic, shoots up his spine. Because he can't just let it slide. He can only tolerate it so much, and he doesn't want to coddle this stranger from Tinder.

"No, you fucking don't."

"I'm serious. I hate my parents -"

"Shut up. Stop talking."

"I know what you feel - "

"You don't! Shut up!"

Finn watches the moment when Kylo realizes he fucked up. His weird proportions become weirder, and tears well up in his big Disney eyes. All Finn can feel is disgust at the emotions laid raw on his face. Finn turns to the ocean, and the saltwater breeze stings in his lashes.

He is never going to know his parents. He has learned to live with this, but other people haven't. It's not fair - none of it is - but sometimes he's so tired.

"I'm sorry," Kylo says, quietly.

"I don't care. I'm going home."

"Okay, that's okay. We can - "

"No, as in, I'm leaving, without you."

"What? But - "

"I'm not getting in your stupid van. Give it back to your dad."

"He gave it - "

"Sure he did." Finn wishes he wasn't high right now so he could focus, because sand is almost as hard to walk in as snow. "I'll get a ride. I'll call my roommate. Just... leave me alone."

"I didn't mean to offend you."

"I said, I don't care."

There is no other side to the beach; the cliffs form a perimeter. He tries to hoist himself up, blunt fingernails clawing at the dirt. He breaks out in sweat, and he wants to run, run, run. The weed is making his anxiety worse instead of relieving it. He starts to fall, and Kylo catches him. 

"Hey, hey, calm down."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"I'm not. I'm gonna - it's okay." He holds Finn to his chest, the top of his head touching Kylo's stubbly chin. "You're panicking."

"I'm not panicking!"

"Listen, I, uh, I know that was stupid to say, shit, it came out and it was insensitive, I know... Just don't hate me, please? I really like you. I'm sorry."

"We've known each other for like, two hours."

"I know, but it's true."

Kylo's arms surround him. Finn lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I don't usually get this upset. It's kinda embarrassing."

"You don't have to explain yourself. Will it make you feel better if I tell you something embarrassing about me?"

"I already know you play _World of Warcraft."_

"What? No, I was gonna say... I've, uh, never actually read any Nietzsche."

Finn laughs into his shoulder. "You're dumb."

"I'll do anything to make it up to you."

"Hm..." Finn looks up at Kylo, who is staring at him like he wants to kiss him. "I think I know something you can do."


	3. Chapter 3

As a child, Finn was small and skinny. He was quiet, too. He liked to watch people as they went about their routines, unaware that he could see them chewing their hair or picking their nose or singing to themselves. No one really noticed him, until puberty came and suddenly everyone could see him - all at once, and then all the time.

He always had a feeling that he was different than the other boys; the adults treated him like he was - punished him for it. He vaguely recollects a time when his adoptive mother was sweeping the porch and he was thinking about wearing her dress. He tries to date the memory - nine or ten years old, maybe February or December? It was neither. 

The weather that second week in January was mild, and as the Saturday afternoon traffic came and went, knobby-kneed Finn laid in the ferns behind the house he was raised in with several foster children. The grass tickled his neck and he sneezed, but no one heard him. Even his sneezes were quiet.

The house he spent most of his earlier years in loomed two stories high, crowned by the dark windows of the attic. Children crept through the hallways, quiet except for the tick-tick-tick of the French clocks. There were many rooms and even more antiques.

The porch out front opened like a mouth from the narrow white stairs to the pink door. His adoptive mother's loose cotton dress covered her body like a bird, shapeless and blue. He thought she might fly away as it folded between her legs. It looked so comfortable, to feel the breeze on her ankles and the sun on her shoulders. He simply wanted to wear it, without question.

Finn stood up, toes curling in the dirt. He stuck out his arms like an airplane and twirled, imagining a skirt blowing around his waist. He curtsied to the cypress trees and giggled.

He thought of Shel Silverstein and said, "Oh, if you're a bird, be a pretty bird. And catch the worm -"

The squeak of his voice made her look his way, and she caught him staring. Her eyes pierced his, and her white-knuckled grip on the broom told him that he had done wrong, that he shouldn't want, that he never could. It was a silent, familiar glare. He knew that certain things were bad, but he did those things anyway. He didn't fully understand yet.

Finn doubts he will feel that shameless _want_ ever again. He could spend the rest of his life trying to be that child who saw a pretty dress and later, when the house was asleep, snuck into her closet for it. But he can only be here as he pulls the spaghetti straps over his broad shoulders. The plain black dress does not make him a bird. It is, however, as comfortable as he believed.

Kylo's ears are turning red. He fumbles with his words, "Um, you look, really nice, yeah, it's - you look good. It suits you, I think. Do you like it? I like it."

"I like it," Finn echoes. He's not paying attention to Kylo as he hovers behind him in the mirror like a ghost. "It's simple. But nice."

There’s never an attendant for the changing rooms at this Target, so no one bothered them about going together. If Kylo wasn’t here, Finn wouldn’t have been able to go through with this. Kylo’s anxiety spikes the air like adolescent sweat in a high school gym, and Finn has to laugh at how stressed he is.

It’s the state of mind Finn goes into when there’s a rush at work and the green beans are in tears. He takes a moment away from the pull-to-thaw, steps onto the floor, and brings the drive times from two minutes back to forty seconds.

He’s really, really good at his job. He can’t wait to quit.

Kylo says, "I like the red one, too."

Finn glances at where it lays on the bench, crumpled up in a puddle of satin. He looks back at his reflection and stretches his leg, admiring the way the dress moves with him.

It's not the first dress he's worn; it'll be the first one he's ever owned.

"Buy me both," Finn says decisively.

Kylo doesn't even blink at the price when they're at the self check-out, but Finn does. Fifty-three dollars. He could fill up his fridge on that money. There’s a flash of silver between Kylo’s fingers like a magic trick as he swipes his card, and Finn is struck by how little he knows about Kylo.

He goes back and forth from laughing at Kylo to worrying about him. Who _is_ Kylo? He didn't take Finn to the coast because he's broke - he sincerely wanted to show Finn his favorite part of the beach. But that omnipresent, exhausting fear of men hums at the back of his mind, even if it's just a little detail out of place.

Kylo's name isn't on the card. It's someone else's.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Finn says as they meander through the parking lot.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you wear socks with sandals when you have a silver Mastercard?"

Kylo snorts. "Because it's comfortable."

"Why do you live with six roommates if money isn't an issue for you?"

"That's two questions." Kylo pauses. "And, because they're my friends."

The inside of the van stinks of weed. It's starting to give Finn a headache.

"I have class in like, thirty minutes," Finn says, politely asking Kylo to take him the fuck home.

"Ditch."

"That's my own money I'd be losing."

There's a moment of silence, except for the _blink-blink_ of the turn signal, and then Kylo breaks it with, "Can I ask you a personal question, too?"

Finn takes a deep breath. "Okay."

"You don't have to answer this, 'cuz I know I upset you earlier, but... tell me about your parents."

He tenses like he's about to throw up. "That's not a question."

"Uh, shit, right. So, what can you tell me about your parents?"

"I don't know," Finn says quietly. The knots in his stomach loosen. "I don't really remember them."

"What do you remember?"

"I was told they just abandoned me. I don't know, I don't... but I had this case worker, who stayed with me for the longest time. I have a vivid memory of her. This blonde white lady in a wool peacoat. And a gray Impala. She sorta watched me grow up."

He called her Captain because of the comic books she gave him. He remembers her. Not his parents.

He realizes he's been clutching the Target bag hard enough to tear it.

"I'm sorry," Kylo says. "That was, uh, an intense thing to bring up. I just want to get to know you, like, personally."

"Tell me about your parents, then."

"Oh. Okay. Well, my mom was a senator. And my dad wasn't around much. I spent a lot of time with my uncle at the farm."

"Why did you hate them?"

Kylo's eye twitches. "They hated me."

They get off the freeway as the sun sets behind them in the blue mountains. They don't talk much on the way to the Wendy's parking lot where Kylo picked him up, so Finn leans back and watches people.

Four children come out of the 7/11 and get on their scooters as an older woman in pink scrubs runs across the intersection, smashing the crosswalk button without stopping. There is something happening everywhere he looks to people he will never know, and it comforts him deeply, though at times it feels so lonely.

Kylo parks next to Finn's Mitshubishi, and when he shuts off the engine, Finn peels the seatbelt from under his sweaty throat and starts to get out.

"Will I see you again?" Kylo says.

"Sure."

"You should come visit me at work. It's the Star Destroyer, on the corner of -"

"That's not its real name," Finn scoffs.

"What? Yes, it is."

"That's a supervillain name. That's a Muse album. That's not a tattoo parlor."

"Well," Kylo says, and then he just laughs.

Finn thinks he likes him, despite everything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little shorter than usual but here's a chapter so you know this fic isn't dead yet

The sky melts like lemonade, yellowish and watery clouds hovering over the hills. The mid-February rain smells of seasons changing, morning dew in cut grass, warm winds through the naked trees. Recently the weeks have blended together like the blue eyeshadow Kylo got him from Ulta. Poe sleeps on the couch now, and Finn's store has officially run out of toasted white mocha.

"I miss the beach," he says to Kylo, phone cradled in the crook of his neck against his shoulder. "Are you free Thursday?"

"Let's go tonight. I'll drive. I want to kiss you by the ocean. I want to see you in the moonlight. I miss you so much."

They saw each other yesterday; he has accepted that Kylo is always like this.

"You know I have class."

"Why don't you go to ASU?"

"I did."

"What? Really? What made you go back to school?"

"I got a degree in philosophy."

"Oh. Like, Socrates and shit?"

"Yeah. Socrates and shit. And Nietzsche, _i_ before _e."_

Laughter echoes on the other end. "Please stop bringing that up."

Ever since they started regularly seeing each other, Kylo has slowly become normal. He's not quite there yet, but it's easier to be out in public with him. His friends didn't understand Kylo at first - and they don't entirely yet.

Then he realizes, "Hey, how come I haven't met your roommates by now?"

"Oh, uh." Kylo hesitates. Dry leaves and empty plastic bags scatter over the parking lot as Finn drives out of the complex. "My room is dirty."

"So? Clean it."

"They... aren't very nice people."

"Are they racist? Is that why?"

"No! No, no - it's, just... You know how I used to do acid? They do hard stuff, like, they pay their rent on time and all, but. They're weird? I don't know."

"But they're your friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"I want to meet them. As long as they aren't cooking meth in your kitchen."

"It's not meth or anything, just... I don't want to scare you off."

"Are you out to them? Do they know?"

"Of course. I mean, we grew up with each other. We fooled around a lot."

"So there's an ex involved."

"It's complicated. But not because of that, that's fine, and we don't do - anything like that, not since you - but, it's something else - I should go soon."

"Oh. Can we talk about this later?"

Kylo exhales. "Yeah. Thursday?"

"Thursday, sure."

"Pismo or Avila?"

"We're going to finish this conversation, Kylo."

"I know, babe, I know -"

"Not trusting me is what’s gonna scare me off, okay? Not you or your goth drug dealer roommates."

"I have to go now."

"Good luck with your client."

He wants to ask, _Are your friends still in the cult? Who is Ben Solo, and why do you have his credit card?_

"He requested me! He saw my art on Instagram and called the shop and, shit, sorry, really gotta go. Text me after class."

"I will."

"Alright, bye babe, love you." Silence. "Um. I mean." He can hear Kylo swallow. "Goodbye."

Kylo hangs up before Finn can respond.

Orange clouds glow in the distance like a shaken Fanta fizzing out of the bottle, and Finn grins as if he can taste it. He reminds himself that he’s supposed to be frustrated with Kylo for keeping secrets, but that casual _love you_ lingers in the air like seeds of a blown dandelion.

He can imagine Kylo in his work clothes - in that clean collared shirt with the parlor logo and those brown loafers - hustling down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, cheeks flushed by the wind and the sudden confession. When Kylo smiles, he looks like that awkward kid from Kansas, big-eared with crooked teeth. The little things that put him off from Kylo, at first, have now endeared him.

Of course his friends don’t understand. They haven’t seen the way he takes off his shoes as soon as he comes inside Finn’s apartment, or the expression he gets when he smells the chicken alfredo Finn made for dinner, or the canines that poke his bottom lip when he can’t stop smiling.

Finn is happy. Buoyant as a ship out at sea, coming at last to the shore.


	5. kylo interlude

The thoughts Kylo has while stoned are like dreams: no one but him truly cares to hear about it. His roommates got sick of it, so he made a blog. After two weeks he was banned for sending death threats to a mukbang YouTuber whose videos made him puke up all his orange juice.

Fucking orange juice - he craves it more than anything when high, with the pulp. He likes chewy, soft textures and hates smooth ones. Like string cheese. He can't stand string cheese when fried out of his mind. Too rubbery.

So he keeps a journal now, moleskin from Michael's. Lately it's been covered in doodles of Finn. The curve of his palm, the line of fate like a map of the stars. The back of his neck, the glance of a smile thrown behind him. 

These drawings feel perverted, worse than porn. As if he snuck into Finn's bedroom to listen to his breathing as he slept. They're intimate, and that frightens Kylo.

He thinks about Finn when he's got a bong in one hand and his dick in the other. And in the shower, at work, at the grocery store. He looks at turkey bacon and monterey cheese on sale and thinks about a picnic at the park. Not the one that he hotboxes his car at, but the nice park that old people walk their dogs at. Hand in hand under the oak trees in domestic bliss.

Of course he fantasizes about Finn while masturbating, but he also fantasizes about a future together. Mid-stroke he's suddenly thinking about the last text Finn sent him, and he has to remind Finn to get new in-soles since his current ones have worn out and he keeps complaining about back pain after work, and he should get Finn some magnesium for his leg cramps... and then he realizes his boner has gone limp against his thigh.

And the most disgusting part? He doesn't care that he didn't finish. Whether in the middle of cloud nine or the dawn of it, he wants to share it with Finn, not his unemployed roommates.

A voice floats out of the fog. Kylo, who is currently slumped in the armchair like a cadaver, straightens his spine until he looks alive. Cando stares at him through the smoke. He searches his empty thoughts for Cando's real name. Maybe Carson?

"Do you want In-n-Out?"

"Uh," Kylo grunts.

"I want a Napoleon shake."

"Napoleon?"

"You know. Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate."

"Napoleon."

"Well, do you want some fries or something?"

"Burger."

"God, you're so out of it." Cando laughs, and Kylo gets the urge to punch him. Cody? It has to be Carson, right?

"I can't. I don't wanna."

"Do you want a burger or not?"

This morning, Kylo flopped out of bed and had popcorn for breakfast. He then ate a half-eaten brownie he found wrapped in Halloween napkins on the couch, and about forty minutes later, he realized it was an edible. It doesn't matter; he was going to get high anyway.

"I'm a piece of shit," Kylo says. "I think I need to change. Get better. Do shit. I'm such a piece of shit."

"Ushar is driving. C'mon, get the fuck up."

He grumbles about it but throws on a hoodie and follows them to the car. The sun pierces his eyes. It feels like the light is coming towards and away from him at the same time.

Music flows in and out of his awareness, because at every red light, Ushar turns off the stereo. His car tends to stall when he hits the break too hard, and he thinks the stereo makes it worse, for some reason.

"I'm a piece of shit," Kylo says again.

Carson punches his shoulder. "Shut up, dude."

His stomach hurts. He takes out his phone and texts Finn, _You’re so beautiful,_ before he reads the previous message. But then he squints at the paragraph Finn sent him, and flashes of sentences come to him: _i know that if i didnt bring it up you never would so... because i do like you unfortunately despite youre uh everything and i want this to continue ... and while it was very fast i think i feel the same but i need you to be honest with me... i need you to... i need you..._

"Did you just want a burger? Or fries, too?"

"Burger, fries. Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might be the shortest chapter yet, which means my motivation for this AU has died, so the next chapter could be the last. I might still try to Do A Plot, but honestly, I just liked writing these vignettes of their lives. I didn't have big ideas in mind for this fic, I just wanted to have fun. and I did, and I hope everyone else did as well. it's not over yet, I'm just feeling sentimental. and I love you all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally intended for this to take place in real time from 2019 into 2020. but then well... everything.... it is very hard for me to return to it, it feels like this fic was written by a different person now.

The warmth of Kylo’s body besides him in bed is a comfort as familiar as toast for breakfast, as the pale yolk of the sun in the hills every morning. Finn loves him like jam on bread. They haven’t slept together since the voicemail, and his nightmares have come back. When Finn has trouble sleeping, eyes twitching and spine like a fish hook, Kylo holds him tighter. And the tension drains from him like rain on the rooftops.

It happened so suddenly, and, at the same time, it feels as though Kylo has known him forever.

Before dawn, when the air is cold and thin, Finn goes on a run. He likes the way his legs look in gym shorts and pleated skirts. He tries to remember what he used to be afraid of; that former self is a silhouette at the edge of his mind, smaller every time he looks behind him. Something settles in his chest, like phlegm, except it makes him smile.

He has a date with Kylo in a few hours. He finishes a loop around the block and makes his way back to the apartment, ripe with endorphins. He wants to hear Kylo say it again.

They meet at Denny’s, which doesn’t appeal to Finn at all, but Kylo is addicted to the blueberry hush puppies. He needs a haircut. If he goes another week without it, he’d look like he has a mullet, and that would be the last straw for Finn.

“So,” Finn starts. He pushes cold eggs and hash browns around his plate. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

Kylo stirs the ice in his coke with a half-squeezed lime, leg bouncing under the table. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Okay. Answer the question again, but without the bullshit.”

"I'm sorry, fuck, I haven't been - I didn't mean to. I just had to... collect my thoughts.”

Finn speaks in a slow monotone, as if to discipline a child. "If you're going through something, I want to be there. It's only going to put a strain on us - as a couple - if you push me away."

"I should have told you that I was going to disappear for a bit. I know. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry. Just... thank you for coming here today."

"Have you slept at all?"

"Uh, no. Not since I asked if you wanted to get food."

"Kylo..."

"Look, don't worry about me. I don't ever want you to be upset because of me. The idea of it makes me hurt." He makes a fist and pounds his chest. "Right here, Finn, it hurts me right here."

Finn rolls his eyes. "I guess you're not doing so bad that you can't be overdramatic."

"But, I have to tell you something. It's - I lied to you," Kylo blurts out. "On our first date, I lied, and I'm sorry. I... I want to get away from here."

 _I lied to you._ He tries not to think of the thousand lies Kylo could have told, but it’s impossible.

"We can talk in my car if you want."

"No, no, it's not - it’s this town. It’s bad. It's getting worse. It's... me. It's bad because of me, and my knights. We're turning it bad." His eyes shine wetly like frog eggs under a microscope. "I'm so sorry. There's things I'll never be able to make up for. I wish I could be a normal person, but I'm not."

"What... did you lie about, Kylo?"

"The cult. I never left it."

A semi-truck blares its horn as a white Nissan cuts it off on a right turn. They both flinch. The waitress comes around to refill Kylo's watery coke, and Finn smiles at her instinctively, though the sound of smacking mouths and scraping silverware is making him nauseous.

When they're alone, Finn leans over and whispers, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

“I packed up all my shit and threw it in the van. It’s over. I’m not going back.”

“Oh my God. Is... is that why you didn’t want me to meet your roommates? They’re fucking _cultists?”_

“Please,” Kylo winces. “Don’t say that so loud.”

“So you didn’t cheat on me or anything?”

“What?!”

“The way you were avoiding me, and acting suspicious - ”

Kylo reaches over and takes Finn’s hands in his. “Baby, if I ever make you feel like that again, I want you to slash all my tires. I deserve it. I want to be the one you can always trust.”

Finn lets out a small laugh, and then he starts crying.

“Oh, God,” he says, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I don’t want to do this in public. Not at Denny’s.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Like, out of town? I have a lease.”

“No, that’s not - I mean, I’ll pay. You don’t have to wait for me.”

He lays his credit card and keys on the table. Finn’s eyes find the name on the card.

“Who’s Ben Solo?”

Kylo’s ears go red.

“There’s... a lot I have to explain. Can you just wait for me in the van?”

“Am I going to get kidnapped by your cult?”

“It’s not _my_ cult. And, no.” Kylo squeezes his hand. “I won’t let that happen to you.”


End file.
